


Victory First, Promises Second

by Anonymous



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings, Princes & Princesses, Quests, but more like meet-mayhem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Seungcheol and Jeonghan, princes from rivaling kingdoms, both embark on a quest to rescue a much-beloved princess. After crossing paths, there is really only one natural course of action: sabotage.(Falling in love, on the other hand, is definitely not in the books.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the BB mods for putting up with my AO3 troubleshooting and last-minute problems - sorry if I was being a handful!
> 
> And a major thank you to S for reading through my writing despite her tight schedule <3

Seungcheol stumbles upon him just as he's about to cross the enchanted (read: cursed) river.

"What. Is this," says the tall, slightly lanky man blinking down at him with his sword half-drawn.

So it was more like the man stumbles upon _Seungcheol_ , but to say the man has the upper hand is horribly unfair since Seungcheol is unable brandish his own weapon—on the account that he's got his arms and right leg wrapped tight in the (also cursed) vines, and his left leg isn't exactly much use for the brandishing of any kind of weapon. Had he been given the chance, he would have looked badass in his all-black get-up perched on his pitch-black stallion (who’s run away a few hours ago, spooked away by a swarm of angry bats—the coward), perfect for blending in with the shadows. Rescuing a kidnapped princess is a terribly dangerous task—especially one as exquisite as Princess Nayoung, and it can only take a Prince as experienced in combat and sleuth as Seungcheol to succeed.

This newcomer, on the other hand, is clearly a lost wanderer. He’s draped in a cape so golden it seems to _glow_ in the dim sunlight streaming in through the lush foliage of the glade, the fur lining near his neck pristinely white despite his hair suggesting he’s been riding on horseback for the better part of the day, all windswept and mussed up slightly at the sides. His cape (or is it a cloak?) is brushing his ankles as he steps forwards cautiously, hovering just shy of the grass under his feet. Seungcheol is triumphant in his verdict that the man must be an idiot—no genius would willingly let a _golden cape_ get muddied up in a forest like this. Moreover, his horse is _white,_ as white as pure snow from the mountaintops in the winter, and that kind of animal would catch a predator’s eye from miles away in a forest as rife with danger as this one. He’s probably just some harmless hunter who’s lost his way around the peripheral forests and has followed a stag or a rabbit or other swift animal a little too deeply into the greenery.

Still, Seungcheol doesn’t rule out the possibility of a hostile and tries to keep his guard up until his hypothesis can be proven.

"Who are you?" he manages to say as intimidatingly as he can in his current position of being twisted up like a pretzel—which amounts to _not very much_. “Step back before I—I—“

The man halts in his spot, raises an eyebrow as if challenging Seungcheol to continue with his threat. Seungcheol never backs down from a challenge.

“Or I’ll order these vines to tangle you up as well!”

“Really,” the stranger deadpans, huffing his brown hair away from his face with a puff of breath. “You’re going to give orders. To vines.”

“This is an enchanted forest,” Seungcheol’s assertion comes off more as a plead.

“Yes, I am well aware.” With a heavy sigh, the stranger sheaths his sword and throws Seungcheol a withering, almost pitying look. Then, seemingly to himself, he grumbles, “Thought it was an enemy I was s’pposed to overthrow—but it’s just another stupid, hungover, lost—“

“Hey, you watch it,” Seungcheol growls, fists balling up in annoyance. “It’s the Prince of Esplid you’re talking to here.”

The man’s eyes widen slightly but he manages to maintain a neutral expression when he says, “Prince Seungcheol, I take it? Of the royal bloodline? What—what are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing, but you haven’t answered my first question.” Seungcheol frowns. “Who are _you_?”

Visibly straightening his back and throwing his hair behind his shoulder, the man throws Seungcheol an effortless, but completely deliberate smile that throws Seungcheol off-balance for a split second. His smile is dangerously charming. “I am Yoon Jeonghan. Prince of Enetsveen, here on a quest to save the lost Princess Nayoung of Spirint.”

Seungcheol nods slightly to himself; he’s heard of the Yoons, very powerful kingdom thought they don’t seem to engage much with—

_Wait._

“Oh, shit,” Seungcheol whispers, ignoring the look of alarm on Jeonghan’s face. “I might have to really kill you now.”

 

 

* * *

  


Seungcheol doesn’t end up killing Jeonghan.

In fact, as soon as Seungcheol convinces him it’s just a simple slip of the tongue ( _“I get chatty when I’m tied up. Wait, that sounded really bad out of context...”_ ) Jeonghan agrees to help cut the bonds off; under the condition that Seungcheol explains himself once he’s completely free.

“This is awkward,” Seungcheol begins, rubbing at his sore wrists—tender and red from all the struggling. “I’ve been assigned the quest to save Princess Nayoung, too.”

“Assigned?”

Seungcheol catches on, and curls his lips into a tiny smirk. “Okay, I’ll drop the act. Yes, I volunteered to do it myself. Does my bravery scare you?”

“No,” Jeonghan snipes back just as quickly. “Actually makes me pity you, because clearly, in your egoistical surge of adrenaline and ‘bravery’, you’ve underestimated how dangerous and difficult this particular task is.”

“I know plenty, thank you very much. And I know how much the Princess means to the King and Queen of Spirint—I intend to restore the peace in their worried hearts immediately.”

“And that is all there is to your motive?”

Jeonghan is still standing up while Seungcheol is sprawled on the ground with his back against a mossy log, and for a moment Seungcheol despises this height difference because he feels stifled by this Prince Jeonghan, looming over him so ominously with an eye as sharp as knives. It wedges right between Seungcheol’s spineless declaration and jabs the truth right out of him.

“Fine. I intend to ask for her hand in marriage after I’ve rescued her from that godawful tower—“

“I knew it,” scoffs Jeonghan. “You’re a self-interested prince just like everyone else.” His tone sounds disappointed, and Seungcheol suddenly feels compelled to apologise—though for what reason, he doesn’t know himself.

“Well, what about you, then?” he crosses his arms petulantly. “What are _you_ on the quest for?”

“None of your business,” mutters Jeonghan, hand coming up to the sword on his hip again. “Listen. We must not meet again under any circumstances—not even when you direly need my help."

“I had it all under control,” grouses Seungcheol, looking away when Jeonghan throws him a glare.

“A _thank you_ for saving your life would be nice.”

Now, Seungcheol is a proud prince, the best of his lineage and isn’t one to concede so easily—he’s been the one behind several of the battle strategies that led to his kingdom’s victories in various conflicts, after all. But he’s also been raised right, so he knows when situations call for manners.

“Right… thanks,” he mumbles, feeling a little ashamed of himself. He’s a dignified Prince, but for the past couple of hours he’s been acting like a petulant seven year-old—all because he’s come across one or two inconveniences. “I really appreciate you not leaving me to rot and die in this shrubbery.”

“Is that sarcasm I hear?”

“I swear I’m being sincere.”

Jeonghan lets his guard down by pulling his hand away from the hilt of his sword. He tosses the bangs away from his eyes ( _wow,_ that must be a practiced move) and offers a—gloved, freaking _gloved,_ in this godforsaken forest—hand out to Seungcheol.

“If we agree on a truce, and promise to never cross paths again, can we put all this behind us?”

Seungcheol accepts the hand and feels himself get pulled up—Jeonghan is stronger than his slight frame suggests. He brushes stray leaves from his black uniform, pats his hair down and stares at Jeonghan. The prince really _is_ disarmingly pretty, with his soft but accentuated features and bright eyes, brows that quirk up and a stance that means no messing about. No wonder Seungcheol had mistaken him as a leisure hunter; he doesn’t look like he’s seen tragedy and hardship as an experienced prince should.

“Have you ever even _been_ on a quest before?” Seungcheol blurts out, and Jeonghan’s pretty face twists in a disgusted scowl as he immediately drops Seungcheol’s hand that he’s been gripping seconds ago.

“For god’s sake—forget it. It’s _impossible_ to try and have a proper conversation with an  _Esplidian_ —“

“Hey, wait—I didn’t mean that in a bad way—I’m sorry, I’m really tired and I've no filter right now,” stammers Seungcheol urgently, reaching out to grab at Jeonghan’s wrist, which he shakes off roughly, But he doesn’t take another step further, merely eyeing Seungcheol with clear dislike.

“I was just taken aback by how differently our kingdoms seem to approach this quest, is all,” he rubs at his nape nervously. “I’ll take you up on that offer if it still stands… you have my word of honour. We will be neutral parties in this expedi—uh… quest, and we shall avoid each others’ paths to ensure a fair competitive environment. Deal?”

Seungcheol mirrors Jeonghan’s earlier action and offers up a hand to shake with a lopsided smile. “I really did appreciate your help today, and I wish you all the best in your future endeavours.”

It takes a few seconds for Jeonghan’s frown to smooth over, another few for him to finally start pacing back in Seungcheol’s direction and slot their hands together, Seungcheol’s slightly clammy ones probably dampening the silky material of Jeonghan’s glove. It’s white—Seungcheol hopes he doesn’t leave a stain.

“Deal. Next time you cry for help, I won’t be your knight in shining armour anymore, Your Highness.”

“Don’t wait around for it, because I won’t—“ his voice breaks off a little because Jeonghan is tugging gently at him, making him step forwards—closer. “I—I won’t be crying—for help—“ _Shit_ , now Jeonghan is definitely leaning in, and Seungcheol is frozen to the spot in shock because _wow his eyelashes look really pretty up close—_

“Gullible,” Jeonghan whispers right next to Seungcheol’s ear, and his eyes shoot wide open (when did he even close them?). “Awfully gullible.”

He stumbles back and pushes Jeonghan away from him only to see the man holding up a piece of parchment, eerily similar to the map Seungcheol kept in his breast pocket, between his pointer and middle finger. His face is glowing with triumph. “Just as easily guilt-tripped as they said you were. Thanks for the map—didn’t have one of these on me, had to resort to a _lot_ of nature-tracking—but this will cut my journey time significantly. Rule one of any quest, Choi Seungcheol: always treat the opposition as a hostile.”

Jeonghan has fled with a resounding cackle by the time Seungcheol’s head stops spinning. He quickly pats himself down, feeling nothing but the slight hardness of his black armour and _definitely_ no crinkle of paper.

“Holy—that son of a _bitch,_ ” he shouts, though his voice is surely falling onto deaf ears. He grits his teeth. “I’m going to make him _pay_ ."  
  


 

* * *

 

  

Seungcheol decides he’ll make Jeonghan pay by robbing him of his most trusted companion—his horse.

Despite Seungcheol’s aversion to impractically-coloured modes of transportation, in order to sabotage Jeonghan’s mission Seungcheol _has_ to chase after the horse. Admittedly, Seungcheol has spent more time staring at the rider than the actual stallion on their first meeting, but there can’t be that many pristine-white horses around. All he needs is bait and a pair of very sharp eyes.

Sure enough, it doesn’t take long for him to catch glimpses of white to the East of the forest’s edge, where there is an open pasture perfect for grazing animals—and where Seungcheol has conveniently left a few wild carrots scattered across the ground. The owner is nowhere to be seen; Seungcheol assumes he’s off to find water or shelter or whatever his cushy upbringing demands of him at the moment, but he can’t be far. Jeonghan isn’t stupid, so Seungcheol just has to be a _little_ smarter.

He waits until the horse starts munching on the carrots he’s left behind before throwing another one, just a step ahead. He continues this process until the horse is close enough for him to reach for it by its bit and reins. It neighs wildly in surprise, but Seungcheol has been trained to calm a spooked stallion since birth (his old horse Coups was just too _erratic_ for his fine-tuned training), so by the time Jeonghan’s voice can be heard in the vicinity, Seungcheol is already settling in the saddle and kicking his foot lightly against the side of the stallion’s body.

“Just borrowing your ride for a bit, Your Highness!” Seungcheol shouts behind him, hearing Jeonghan’s alarmed shout and not catching a last glimpse at the man before he’s speeding off deeper into the forest, leaving behind a maniacal laugh that tears through the silence. Victory has never tasted so sweet.

The path to the princess’ tower of captivity turns rocky and steep, and once it starts pouring cats and dogs (literally, puppies are falling on his head along with the rainwater, and he has to tiptoe to avoid stepping on kittens) Seungcheol can feel the horse skid around on the slippery rocks every other step. Eventually he takes pity on the poor beast and decides to let it go, as much as it hurts to part with such a beautiful creature no matter how ill-suited to a quest he is. Through the torrential rain, Seungcheol watches it gallop away into the depths of the forest as soon as it reaches the foot of the mountain without turning its head back, seemingly intent on finding its own stable. Castle-trained horses should have a natural inclination to gravitate back to their homes, similar to a GPS that is permanently pointed at their kingdom, so Seungcheol has no doubt that the stallion will find an Enetsveenian village soon, if not his very own gate to the stables. He feels a little guilty for not even saying goodbye, but he has no time to mourn over incomplete partings.

At least now the playing field is level.

Jeonghan is definitely following the same path Seungcheol is now that he has the map—Seungcheol has most of it memorised by heart, with only the details such as ideal points of shelter being absent from his memory. It feels like the hundredth hour of him sitting in a cave to seek shelter from the rain, bored out of his mind, when Seungcheol sees yet another flash of white between the thin barks of the trees surrounding him.

Screw the rain.

He tails after Jeonghan for a little while, enthusiasm only renewed when the rain finally lets up. He watches the fury in the prince's expression with glee. Seungcheol tells himself it’s only because he hasn’t had enough of rubbing his success in Jeonghan’s face that he sneaks back to the clearing later that night, where he knows Jeonghan has set up camp with the smallest of a lantern to light up his vicinity. It’s a little difficult to see the prince's face, shrouded over by so much darkness in the night that Seungcheol almost gives up in his gloating mission to head back to his own nook in a cave—that is, until Jeonghan shifts in his seating position, hunched over with his chin on his drawn-up knees, and turns his face to the moonlight.

He looks absolutely crestfallen. 

A sick feeling settles in Seungcheol’s stomach, so he turns and flees for fear of what the sympathy rising in him can mean.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The shadow must have been playing games on him that night because a couple of days later, just as Seungcheol is surveying the lake area for the row of overgrown mushrooms he’s supposed to find—it’s a part of a series of landmarks leading to the princess’ tower—he sees Jeonghan again.

And this time, the man is definitely  _ not _ dejected.

Seungcheol only has time to twist his body to see Jeonghan’s face, full of gleeful determination, before he feels himself being pushed backwards—

—right into the lake.

“That! Is childish!” Seungcheol sputters, fighting the ripples to wade back to the edge of the lake. Too late; the last things he gets to see are these: a shit-eating grin on Jeonghan’s face, and Jeonghan effectively _robbing_ him. 

Before Seungcheol realises, Jeonghan’s reaching out, dramatically slowly, like the motherfucker is doing this on purpose…for Seungcheol’s rucksack.

It has the last of Seungcheol’s food supply and, most importantly, his favourite dagger; the one his deceased mother left behind for him as heirloom. 

“No, shit, no, don’t you  _ dare _ !”

But it’s too late; the lightweight armour built in to Seungcheol’s outfit turns out to be not so lightweight in water, and he’s only halfway to dry land when Jeonghan swings the rucksack across his shoulder and sticks his tongue out. The he smiles again, eyes slightly crinkling at the edges.

“Have fun foraging,  _ Your Highness." _

When Jeonghan runs back into the forest, Seungcheol is left to float and stew in his own thoughts. For some reason, it is the after-image of Jeonghan’s carefree, uninhibited laughter pressed into his mind, not the shit-eating grin or the fact that Jeonghan has stolen Seungcheol’s only precious possession right under his nose.

The freezing lake water doesn’t feel so bad anymore. 

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Forced into a routine of gathering (and unfortunately no hunting, as he does not trust his sword skills to kill an animal within an arm’s range) Seungcheol’s progress stagnates. He remembers the castle being North-East to the very lake he was pushed into, but he quickly realises that the straight path there is barren of any herbage and thus unaccommodating to his current dietary needs. Soon, he finds his path being forced into a more winding, serpentine trajectory than he’d liked. 

But this also means he cuts through Jeonghan’s path a lot more frequently. They both cause trouble for the other as often as their energy allows—whether it be attempting to cut one of the suspension ropes on the bridge Jeonghan is crossing off (just enough to leave the prince wildly out of balance); or Jeonghan dampening all the firewood Seungcheol’s collected for the night to leave him shivering in his thin cloak. With this ongoing challenge keeping him on his toes, Seungcheol finds the traditional danger posed by the enchanted forest pale in comparison—never mind the illusory warbles of songbirds that disorient his every move for a good five miles, nor the pack of wolves wreaking havoc in the row of trees right next to Seungcheol’s. In fact, he manages to fight them off by climbing up a tree and stabbing the ones brave enough to attempt to follow him right through the jugular—quick, painless death, which scares off the rest of the pack quite effectively. 

Never mind these dangers, because whenever Seungcheol so much as  _ hears _ Jeonghan approaching his guard is instantly reinforced by tenfold, brain already working to figure out the best ways to sabotage the other’s progress. His heart starts to pick up pace too, and his palms get clammier than usual, but adrenaline does strange things to one’s body and Seungcheol isn’t even going to waste brain power on  _ that _ . He also tries not to think about how he needs to continue reminding himself of why he wants Jeonghan to fail so badly—so he can get to the princess first, and certainly not because he finds crossing paths with Jeonghan inherently  _ fun _ .

The change comes the night Seungcheol is meant to stumble upon a village by the river banks, a meandering thing that cuts through the eastern side of the forest and is also a popular resting spot for travellers back in the days. He keeps the ‘back in the days’ note pretty close to heart, because nothing’s been meeting his expectation on his quest, so he’s not about to give himself up to false hopes of a warm meal and friendly reception upon his arrival. 

Sure enough, the village is deserted when he reaches it, but he does hear a resounding whine from one of the dark and abandoned cottages by the river bank. He approaches the spot with his sword poised in front of him, noting the way the currents in the river catch moonlight as they break against the muddy banks. After confirming his solitude, Seungcheol runs to the cottage to find a golden retriever—probably stray or abandoned; it has no collar on—with its hind legs trapped between a collapsed table and the ground. The table seems to be made of heavy wood, almost as dense as mahogany but not quite as precious, and it takes Seungcheol a little bit of huffing and puffing before he inches it off the ground just enough to let the dog go.

“Come on, buddy, I—I can’t keep this up any longer,” he gasps out as he watches the dog shuffle forwards slowly on its front legs, clearly too exhausted and spent to move any faster. 

The second it’s out of danger, Seungcheol releases the table from his grips and pets the dog’s head, laughing breathlessly.

“You’ve gotta watch out next time you run around, okay?” Of course, the dog doesn’t respond, just pants back at him and the two stay like that in silent company until Seungcheol pets it down for any identification tags. Finding none, he decides to fetch it some drinking water from the river.

While he’s crouching over the bank and waiting for his hip flask to fill up, humming a nonsensical song to himself, Seungcheol watches a flash of something white ducking back into the bushes out of the corner of his eye. The tails of it has a hint of golden and Seungcheol thinks it’s unmistakable—he’s sure it was Jeonghan just then, running back to hiding. But why has the prince run from Seungcheol instead of kicking off the next leg of their seemingly endless disputes? Seungcheol really can’t make heads or tails of it.

The dog is gone by morning, and Seungcheol has an eerie feeling it wasn’t by mere coincidence that he’s come across it the night before. But he doesn’t even dwell on this fact nor the childish sense of betrayal at being abandoned so quickly for long. Behind his closed eyelids, all he can see is a moppy head

He doesn’t see Jeonghan again for the next two days. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, now you’re just being a spoilsport.”

It’s the eighth day of radio silence (figuratively) and relative peace—and Seungcheol absolutely detests it. There’s nothing to anticipate when he wakes up in the morning, nothing to spring him back to the balls of his feet and have him on full-alert. Overall, the trek to the princess’ tower has turned awfully bland and resembles too much of an unwanted solitary roadtrip that Seungcheol finally caves in and sacrifices the past two days to retrace Jeonghan’s steps.

His efforts have come to fruition, but not in the way he expected. Seungcheol’s scowl grows deeper when Jeonghan doesn’t even flinch at his arrival from behind the tree trunk, merely looks over his shoulder in complete disinterest and lets out a sigh like it’s a chore to see Seungcheol at this hour and not an adrenaline-inducing challenge waiting to be confronted.

“What’s gotten into you? Why aren’t you trying me to this tree trunk immediately or feeding me to the wolves yet? I haven’t had to fight for my life in over a week—I’m not going to count those thorny bushes I had to slash my way through because the thorns weren’t even that sharp. And really? A campfire this size in a clearing  _ this _ big? Keep going like this and you’ll be mauled off your butt in five minutes.” Once he’s started, Seungcheol seems unable to stop, fuelled by the apathy in Jeonghan’s reaction until annoyance claws at his mind like insatiable rats. “Are you even  _ trying _ anymore?" 

“I know what she means to you,” Jeonghan replies at last, voice barely audible over the crackling of burning wood. 

Seungcheol draws back, startled and awfully confused. “Who?"

“The princess, of course,” Jeonghan gives him a strange look, then turns back to stare at the fire while Seungcheol stays rooted to spot. He feels another surge of anger rise in him, along with a hint of defensiveness. 

“And you think it’s permissible to make assumptions about me?”

“Not assumptions… just deductions,” Jeonghan shrugs. "When I asked you why you embarked on this quest and you gave me your reasons… I knew there was something deeper there. I just didn’t know it was this.”

“What are you talking about?” Seungcheol’s fists ball up, heart pounding a mile a second. “Who did you meet on the way here and  _ what did they tell you—" _

“No one, only this.” Jeonghan rummages under his cape and pulls out a dagger.

It’s Seungcheol’s, the familiar silver surface glinting by the glow of the campfire.

“And you don’t need to be angry about it,” interrupts Jeonghan when Seungcheol opens his mouth in protest. “It’s not a bad story to tell.” 

“It’s not one I particularly enjoy talking about.”

“Why not?”

A scathing retort rests on the tip of Seungcheol’s tongue—only for it to dissipate into empty words as soon as he catches a glimpse of the engraving on one side of the dagger’s blade; the one that always softens the tension in his limbs until he wants to do nothing but sit and stare at it, tracing the curved letter gently with a calloused finger. His mother's name.

“It’s your mother’s, isn’t it?”

The laugh Seungcheol lets out is mirthless. “What gave it away?”

“You don’t have a sister.”

“Been studying up on my family tree, have you?” It’s a rhetorical question—of course, it’s imperative for any successor to thrones to be aware of neighbouring royal family’s general dynamics. Politics and personal ties are closely intertwined in their worlds. “She left that dagger for me when she died.”

“Fuck,” groans Jeonghan, running a hand down his face. “Now I feel  _ doubly _ shit.” 

Seungcheol chuckles—for real, this time. “Doubly?”

There’s a moment of hesitation where Seungcheol thinks Jeonghan looks almost  _ guilty. _ The expression morphs into one of solemn pensiveness. however, once he flips the dagger onto its other side to expose yet another engraving; only this one was clearly borne from inexperienced hands.

_ Nayoung-Cheol _

“Was it arranged?” Jeonghan’s voice is quiet.

Seungcheol walks over to settle into the spot beside Jeonghan near the tree trunk, gazing at the blade. “Childhood best friends, actually. Totally inseparable, so it was only…”

“Only natural,” continues Jeonghan, his words barely a whisper. “You loved her, and she loved you.”

“At the time—and even now, really,” admits Seungcheol. He takes a deep breath. “But never in that way. This whole mission—I’m not actually looking to ask her hand in marriage.”

Jeonghan frowns at the dagger, nonplussed, but still does not take his eyes off of it. “How come?”

Seungcheol licks his lips, which are now dry as desert. Nothing warrants this sudden need to divulge his secrets to Jeonghan, especially considering the circumstances they’ve found themselves  _ because _ of the other’s antics the last couple of days. Seungcheol shouldn’t trust Jeonghan this much, but Jeonghan just seems so  _ guilty _ about an heirloom Seungcheol can honestly afford to lose at this stage in his life, seems to put so much value in sentiments that Seungcheol feels  _ compelled _ to let him inside. 

“We were too young to know what we really wanted. As I grew up I realised I… my preference… I wasn’t so taken in by the dames. Not as much as…” Here, Seungcheol lets out a derisive snort. “As, believe it or not, their  _ consorts _ .”

“So you realised you were gay.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Okay, put it more bluntly, why don’t you?"

“And how did… did the princess take it badly?”

“No, actually, Nayoung was very understanding. Like I said, we were both too young and it was too early to say  _ I want you for the rest of my life _ to anyone at that moment in time. Our families though—well. There was no avoiding the awkward lunch meets left behind, I guess.” Seungcheol cackles, settling further back onto the tree trunk. The warmth of the campfire is finally starting to reach the tips of his fingers. “Sometimes I still feel guilty about that. She never talked to me about it, but I’m sure her family gave her hell for it, you know?. To be an engaged princess and letting her fiancée stray off to God knows where—no matter how young she was, people must have talked.”

“Whoever  _ talked _ were clearly a bunch of entitled bigots,” argues Jeonghan, his voice tight with anger. Seungcheol nods. 

“Complete assholes, of course. But I wouldn’t blame them. I still care about Nayoung deeply; perhaps not romantically as I should have, but I will fight tooth and bone to bring her back to safety. I made a promise, and I selfishly broke it—”

“It wasn’t selfish."

“At the time, maybe it didn’t feel that way. But it sure does feel like it now.” 

Silence settles between them as Seungcheol watches Jeonghan process this newfound information, replaying everything he has disclosed to the man and briefly wondering if this is just one of the many ploys Jeonghan is playing to tempt blackmail-worthy material out of him. Time passes and Seungcheol sees nothing of the sort—he only sees the dawn of understanding breaking through the dark shadows of Jeonghan’s face.

He clears his throat as a way of dispelling the awkward lapse in conversation. “So what about you, then? I’ve pretty much just laid my heart out naked for you, I must at _least_ deserve a one-liner reason for this quest."

Jeonghan finally— _ finally— _ looks up from the fire and gives him a sideways grin. “You sure you can handle my tragic backstory, Esplidian?”

Seungcheol spreads his arms. “Give me all you got."

There’s a brief smile on Jeonghan’s face before he quickly slips to sobriety again. “If you thought you were being selfish, what would you think of—“ Jeonghan breaks himself off to shake his head, as if he’s about to elaborate but thinks better of it. “Never mind that. I put myself forward for this quest because I wanted to prove my worth.”

“Worth?”

“As a prospective King.” Jeonghan’s eyes are shielded now, lips pursed into a thin line—it’s the same expression he wore when he posed Seungcheol a challenge, all those meetings ago. 

“But it’s your birthright,” protests Seungcheol, unconsciously scooting closer to Jeonghan’s personal space. Neither moves to restore the distance between them. “Surely… I mean, this display of worthiness has  _ got _ to be unnecessary?”

“Not if you can vote a King out of power.”

Seungcheol’s jaw drops. “ _ Vote _ a King out...?” 

“After which the power will be handed over to the next-in-line, yes.”

“Jeonghan, I had no idea...”

“It's not something they like to air in public, this possibility.”

“But completing a quest shouldn’t be part of the job requirement. You have knights to help you out on the security fronts."

Jeonghan gives him a withering look. “Think about it, Cheol-ah. If I don’t volunteer for such a highly-covered quest like this one—if I don’t trust myself enough to save even  _ one _ person, then what hope would there be for me to run an entire kingdom?” 

Seungcheol weighs Jeonghan’s words for a while, finally running out of things to say as he lets the words settle. Jeonghan exhales noisily. 

“Anyway, I’m—I’m sorry for  _ this, _ ” he waves the thin air around him ambiguously. “This,  _ thing _ , where we try to get on each other’s nerves all the time. You had a noble cause going on and I ruined it because of my self-interest and tried to blame you for the very same thing. And for stealing your things; especially your dagger. I didn’t know it meant so much to you."

Seungcheol gives Jeonghan what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “You had no way of telling. And hey, stop selling yourself short.” Before he can stop himself, Seungcheol rests a palm on Jeonghan’s knee. "I know you’re doing this because you care about her, too.

Jeonghan’s gaze flickers down to where they’re touching for the briefest of moment. “If I really did, I would’ve backed off the moment I met you and let you rescue her.”

Seungcheol clicks his tongue. “Or… you would have tried even harder to save her from an incompetent idiot who’s more likely to get himself killed before he ever reaches the front gates of the tower.” Thinking back to their first meeting, Seungcheol can’t help but peter off into peals of laughter. “I mean—the first thing I said after we introduced ourselves was my intention to  _ kill you _ . If that didn’t set off any alarms in your head, I would be very concerned about you, Yoon Jeonghan.

“The tower is hidden, it doesn’t  _ have _ gates, genius,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but he huffs out a quiet laugh. “And you aren’t incompetent. You’re pretty resourceful yourself, sometimes annoyingly so.”

Seungcheol pretends to complain under his breath even as he feels butterflies flutter in his stomach. (Huh. Weird.)

In the orange glow of the campfire, Jeonghan’s eyes are full of quiet determination. “I would now, though. Trust you to save her.”

Seungcheol is a little breathless because he never realises how beautiful determination looks on Yoon Jeonghan’s face. “Same here,” he manages to rasp out. He clears his throat. “But we’re both too far into this to back out.”

“And two genius heads are better than one. Well, one genius head and one idiot one, really.” Jeonghan dodges the playful swat with a cackle, before drawing himself up to an upright position. 

Cloaked in confidence and equipped with newfound resolution, Seungcheol has never seen anyone more princely than Yoon Jeonghan of Enetsveen at that moment. He’s left star-struck. 

“I propose a truce—a real one this time,” says Jeonghan, his voice steady and almost diplomatic if it isn’t for the slight cheekiness tinging the edges of it. “We both help each other out on this quest in order to ensure a prompt rescue of the princess—all in the interest of her well-being and safety.”

“No tricks?” 

Jeonghan’s eyes soften. “No tricks.”

“Then Yoon Jeonghan, Prince of Enetsveen,” Seungcheol enunciates slowly and dramatically, reaching a hand out for Jeonghan to shake and straightening his back like he’s got an entire palace ballroom of onlookers rather than the inanimate shrubbery surrounding him. “You’ve got yourself a very, very powerful ally.”

Jeonghan grins, playing along and shaking Seungcheol’s hand. The strong, sole shake, however, makes it clear that Jeonghan means business. “Delighted. This quest will be completed in no time.”

Seungcheol means to be elated—he  _ has _ to be, if he still considers himself somewhat of a decent human being. Except he can’t get rid of the lump in his throat that is simply begging for more time, more time,  _ more time _ .

Because whatever it is that’s been happening between him and Jeonghan is starting to make sense. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

There really shouldn’t be any reluctance in Seungcheol’s being to find and save the princess; it’s of utmost importance, after all, to restore an entire kingdom’s peace of mind and well-being by bringing back the crown princess and to make sure she is out of harm’s way. That is the moral, rational thing to do. 

Yet each time he looks up at Jeonghan’s messy hazelnut hair and the smile he wears when he gives Seungcheol a long-suffering sigh for his antics, Seungcheol is hit with a desperate want. It aches in his bones, sends a heartburn right through his chest, renders his muscles useless when he’s trying to avoid brambles and bushes—so much so that Jeonghan has to haul his butt out of danger a couple of times.

“Damn it, Seungcheol, thought you were the tough guy on this quest—now I can’t wait to be rid of you,” Jeonghan grumbles once, in a cave where they’re hiding from a carnivorous plant the size of a house—but even then Seungcheol can hear the joke in it, the small cry in Jeonghan’s throat that wants anything _but_  for them to part. 

It’s a miracle that Seungcheol doesn’t try to detour their little quest team onto a longer path to stretch out their time together, though Jeonghan’s enthusiasm and unrelenting focus may have something to do with his decision. The longer they spend out in the woods, the more anxious Jeonghan gets, and sometimes Seungcheol thinks the other prince may be missing home—and what does it say about Seungcheol if sitting under the shade of a large tree or leaning back against a scratchy bark beside Jeonghan is where he feels most at home?

So the ache, the burn, the _want_  remains in Seungcheol’s chest:

He doesn’t want the mission to end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Seungcheol knows this entire mission has been an aberrant, a freak show, a whole trainwreck the second he stepped out to see some landmarks missing, is entirely convinced it’s all an elaborate prank when he met Jeonghan—yet he’d persevered, because Choi Seungcheol is no quitter. 

But nothing screams ‘ _THE BIGGEST JOKE IN HISTORY_ ’ when he and Jeonghan slash their way through the vines covering the front entrance of the clearing only to find that not only is the grassland around the tower trimmed neatly (and nothing like the hellish, overgrown monstrous maze they were expecting), but also that the princess herself is crouched on the ground with a pair of garden shears, a summer hat on her head, eyes wide in surprise.

There’s even a drink sitting beside her on the grass.

It’s _pink_. 

“Uh, Your Highness,” Seungcheol breaks the uncomfortable silence after a while, but doesn’t get much out past that. He remains frozen on the spot, trying not to gape and ends up opening and closing his mouth like a broken marionette. The princess, on the other hand, seems to recover from her shock much quicker and soon schools her face into a neutral expression.

“Your Highness,” Jeonghan steps forwards after a while, and Seungcheol can hear the eye-roll in his tone. Nayoung drops her shears, smacks her hands together to get rid of the stray grass blades sticking to her fingers. “Allow me to introduce myself—I am Yoon Jeonghan, Prince of Enetsveen. And this is—“ 

“Choi Seungcheol,” said man quickly recovers, mustering as much sobriety as he possibly can in this situation. _We were supposed to be saving a damsel in distress! That’s what rescuing means, right?_ He tries to convey them with his eyes. “Prince of Esplid.” 

Nayoung gives them both a quick curtsy, a smile on her lips. Seungcheol can’t tell if she’s amused or is feeling just as confused as they are. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m truly sorry about my...” she waves her hand vaguely down her dress once. “Appearance, but I wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

Seungcheol blinks once, twice, thrice. Beside him, he can hear Jeonghan’s breathing pick up pace—a sure sign that he’s internally freaking out (a habit Seungcheol’s filed for future reference after their encounter with the very cute but very clingy bunnies in one corner of the forest). Here Seungcheol stands, expecting to see a young woman emaciated after a long period of isolation, perhaps in near tears, kept hostage by one monster or another and therefore will definitely be grateful to be found—

But Princess Nayoung looks more like a teenager on a gap year break than a member of royalty advertised to be in great distress. 

Seungcheol glances over at Jeonghan and knows, with a single look, that it’s a much more acute reality check than what the other man was prepared for, too.

“I think we both need a drink.”

 

 

* * *

  

 

There’s a running tap in the tower’s makeshift pantry (with working plumbing) that churns out the same drink Nayoung’s been enjoying, to which Nayoung coolly says, “Help yourselves." 

Sitting with their ( _pink!_ ) drinks next to them on the table, Seungcheol and Jeonghan are sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the narrow couch, sharing looks with each other every two minutes to confirm that; one, this is in fact, real; two, they are not dreaming and; three, none of this is a result of hallucination from an extended stay in the enchanted forest.

It doesn't end up doing much to convince the pair.

“Kidnapped? Is that what the kingdom is telling you?” Nayoung hides a small laugh behind her hand, tossing her long hair leisurely before her face snaps back to its previously neutral expression. 

“Yes,” Jeonghan deadpans beside Seungcheol. “We find that hard to believe, too."

“Guess they’re not willing to admit the incompetency of their hunting party. Though I assume no kingdom would want to be the laughing stock of others. Kidnapping—definitely sounds more sensational. It would prove to be a lot more effective.”

“Effective at?”

“Finding me, of course,” she replies matter-of-factly. “It’s a vast forest—we took quite a large hunting group, but we still managed to get separated. And it’s a place that grows by the day, learns from experience. It’s mutable.”

Seungcheol perks up. “Meaning that finding your way to a place once—“

“—doesn’t guarantee you a second visit,” Jeonghan finishes softly, looking at Seungcheol with slight wonder in his eyes. “That’s why they needed the help of other kingdoms.”

Momentarily, Seungcheol finds himself staring into Jeonghan’s eyes (they are very pretty eyes) but he forces himself to look away and ask, instead, “What about getting out? If the hunting party found a way out…”

“I don’t doubt that it wouldn’t be too difficult. After all, the place is designed to keep people out, not for them to set up a grave here. But…” Nayoung shifts, and suddenly her mask of indifference cracks with worry. “You must understand. Life in the palace—in there—it can be… stifling, to say the least.” 

“Trust us, we know.” Seungcheol laughs humourlessly. 

She seems to relax a little. “I thought it would do me some good here, to be lost for a while. Get away from it all and take time for myself. Making this place a new home—it’s not half bad."

“Why not take a holiday instead, princess?” Jeonghan cuts in, tone bored. “If you’re so keen on taking a break."

“Not exactly a job I can take leaves from, is it?” Nayoung shoots back a reply, with just a slight edge to it. “I expect you’d know that, Prince Yoon.”

“‘Course you can,” he leans back. “Tell them you gotta visit a neighbouring kingdom’s daughter for a playdate or something, crash there for a few days.”

At this point, Seungcheol finds that sinking into the plush couch cushions sounds like a very agreeable option. Nayoung casts Jeonghan a look.

“The only neighbouring kingdoms close enough for me to be allowed to go on ‘playdates’ with are both of yours.”

Jeonghan throws his hands up. “Perfect. Say hello to your new best friends.”

In the silence that follows, Seungcheol sees the situation for what it really is: a pair of princes, haggard, half-starved and very much in need of sleep attempting to rescue an obviously well-fed, well-rested albeit lonely, princess, proposing ‘playdates’ as an excuse for her to escape the stifling walls of her castle. But also—Seungcheol silently reads from the way Jeonghan is perking up a little with hope, and the way he is obviously charmed by Nayoung’s easy-going yet resourceful personality— proposing a newfound friendship that may take them places in the future.

So Seungcheol can’t help but laugh, soon joined by the other two in the room. 

“I’m holding you to it for invitations,” she grins. “You won’t be able to shake me off that easily.”

“We’d be honoured, Your Highness,” Seungcheol says. “It’s a wonder our parents have never arranged such meetings for either of us."

Nodding, she seems to stare off into space for a while, deep in thought. “I’m glad I was ‘rescued’ by both of you,” Nayoung says with visible relief. “Knowing the King, he probably insinuated a marriage as a reward incentive of some kind.” She gives them a sincere smile and says, in the sweetest voice possible, “I’m truly lucky that you guys are too into each other for me to worry about an unwanted marriage."

Jeonghan chokes on his drink. Seungcheol drops his glass and watches it smash to a million little pieces on the floor. 

He suddenly can’t wait to be back home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The celebratory ball a month later is an extravagant event, the ballroom brimming with opulence and music and refreshments—but most of all, happiness and relief. Everyone is in a festive mood, of course—if not for the safe return of the princess, for the invitation to such a grand party that few would ever have the occasion to attend. The King and Queen of Spirint are feeling generous, so it seems like half of the world’s most important figures are present.

Stepping away from the crowd of overbearing admirers begging for a piece of the (epic, legendary, apparently romantic) story of the princess’ return, Seungcheol feels like he’s the only tense person in the room. He’s spent much of the night fielding off misconceptions about the princess being in great danger before he and Jeonghan showed up, how they’d fought over the affections of the princess, how he'd emerged victorious. He reinforces, as often as possible, the platonic nature of the friendship between the three kingdom’s young monarchs, and talks of the ‘outings’ they wish to arrange in the future that he hopes will ameliorate the relationships between their states, and tries not to think of how borderline libellous some of the mainstream stories are. These answers seem to pacify the crowd for the moment, at least—and Seungcheol slips between party-goers, pretending to see one acquaintance or another at the opposite end of the room, until he really does find the one person he wants to see that night. The only person he wants to see. 

He follows Jeonghan around the corner to a secluded alcove below the palace’s side winding staircase.

“Can’t breathe?” Jeonghan is leaning on the wall when Seungcheol catches up to him, a smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand and looking like a million bucks in his formal military uniform. His chestnut hair is nearly parted to the side, gleaming under the warm lighting of the ballroom and his lips are a pretty pink from the punch drink. Though unintentional, he really does make Seungcheol feel pathetically under-dress in his double-breasted suit.  

“It’s a little… much,” says Seungcheol, pulling at his collar slightly and very much noticing the way Jeonghan’s eyes follow his movement, regardless of how much the other man tries to hide it. “I was informed the celebration would be a large function. No one told me just how massive it would be.”

“And long,” Jeonghan murmurs, finally looking away. “Honestly, we’re about half a dozen toasts away from becoming fossils ourselves.” 

Jeonghan shoots Seungcheol a grin—infectious, Seungcheol can feel one on his face despite the nerves in his bones—and thinks there’s no better way to pick up where  

“So, uh,” Seungcheol starts, fiddling with the seam of his coat. “You wanna… talk about it?”

“About what?” Jeonghan is playing dumb, he knows. “You have to be more specific.”

“What Nayoung said—you didn’t try to refute it.” He licks his lips, mind going over the many variations of phrases he can use. Eventually he settles on, “Do I still have a chance? To have you?”

Instead of the coy grin Seungcheol’s gotten so used to, it’s with an endeared look that Jeonghan reaches up to brush Seungcheol’s hair away from his face. 

“Darling,” he mutters quietly. “You’ve already got me.”  

It’s strange, the feeling of having your chest simultaneously constrict and expand—it hurts in the best possible way, the kind of pain that comes from grinning too widely or the ache from jumping in ecstasy for too long. It’s the kind of ache he wants to feel all the time, and Seungcheol has to use all the remaining strength in his limbs not to just throw himself at Jeonghan. 

“Did you just call me ‘darling’?” he can’t help but laugh instead. Jeonghan glares at him.

“I take it back. If you breathe a word about this, you’ll never see the light of day again."

Seungcheol giggles, holds out an arm in reply. “Easy, tiger. Shall we dance to cool off?”

“The song’s not exactly to my taste,” Jeonghan drawls, and there’s a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “I have something better to suggest.”

“Oh?”

It only takes a second for him to be dragged into a large doorway in a long, empty corridor by his lapels, three seconds for Jeonghan to pull Seungcheol on top of him and crowding himself in—and another second for Jeonghan’s mouth to find his, hot and wet and _hungry_.

It’s quick and frantic, but Seungcheol thinks after the lengthy quest and the tension-spiked journey back (where they were forced to refrain from addressing the nature of their relationship for fear of isolating the princess in their conversations), it’s a welcome change of pace.

“I wouldn’t—call this—cooling down,” Seungcheol nips at Jeonghan’s lips, earning delicious tiny grunts from the other man.

“Never said it was."

“Volunteering for that quest was the best decision I’ve—uh—ever made,” gasps Seungcheol as Jeonghan tilts his head and drags a fingernail down Seungcheol’s neck, feeling a smirk grown against his own lips. He has to stop himself from grinding his hips into Jeonghan’s, but the prince doesn’t seem to mind—merely resting his fingers on Seungcheol’s ass, gripping it tight and arching up deliciously. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs, licking the roof of Seungcheol’s mouth and eliciting a whole-body shudder out of him. “Even though you didn’t end up getting the credit of completing it all to yourself?”

“Oh no,” Seungcheol laughs, breaking apart and leaning back when Jeonghan tries to chase after his lips. He gets them to slow their breathing down for a while as his gaze roams over Jeonghan’s face—everywhere from his blown pupils to his swollen, spit-slicked lips to the rosy colour high on his cheeks. “No, I don’t care about the credit. I got the grand prize after all.” 

“Yeah?” Jeonghan pulls back a little, giving Seungcheol an appreciative once over. “Well, guess my share isn’t half bad either.”

If Seungcheol thinks it’s impossible for his heart to grow any fuller, he’s happily proven wrong. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking to the end of this fic!!!


End file.
